


Getting Better

by its_mike_kapufty



Category: Rhett & Link
Genre: Comfort, Don't copy to another site, Fluff, Gift Giving, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Panic Attacks, The Murmur of Yearning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-16
Updated: 2019-08-16
Packaged: 2020-09-02 11:26:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,982
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20275147
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/its_mike_kapufty/pseuds/its_mike_kapufty
Summary: “Hey.Hey,” Link implored, searching for those green eyes. But they were distant and wide, locked on the napkin dispenser separating their settings, his large shoulders visibly rigid. Link swallowed and rubbed a thumb along his knuckles to try and ease him back down from shock.“Mick? I love you. Everything’s okay.”At the sound of his name, Mick’s sights flicked up to rest on Link’s.





	Getting Better

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Apparentlynotreallyfinnish](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Apparentlynotreallyfinnish/gifts).
  * Inspired by [The Murmur of Yearning](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17988200) by [its_mike_kapufty](https://archiveofourown.org/users/its_mike_kapufty/pseuds/its_mike_kapufty). 

> Happy birthday, Appa! ❤︎ Thank you for giving this fandom such an incredible catalog of equally-incredible fics. :') You're a gem of a friend. I love you and I'm so proud of how much work you've put into your writing!

This was too much. 

Link  _ knew  _ it was too much, and it was his fault—and if the stimulation didn’t stop, things were going to snowball from bad to  _ incident  _ in a matter of minutes.

“Hello! My name’s Tricia and I’ll be takin’ care of you today. What can I get started for y’all?”

Summoned by Murphy’s Law itself, the waitress hovered near their table and smacked gum loudly, hand on her hip and notepad at the ready. With an apologetic smile, Link took a deep breath and tried to will her away as quickly as possible without being rude.

“Can we please get two waters and whatever the most popular appetizer is, to-go?”

The brunette’s eyes popped open in bemusement and she scrunched her brow. “To-go? Y’all just sat down, is somethin’ wrong?”

Link shook his head briskly. “Not at all, miss. We just want to see more of the animals before we have to leave.”

_ Please hurry. Leave us, so I can talk to him. _

“Hmm. Alright, but no throwin’ food into the exhibits, okay? We’ll get in real trouble if that happens.” The waitress winked and bowed out. “I’ll be back with those waters. Hot out, today.”

The interaction had lasted all of twenty seconds, but with panic creeping in, Link knew that might as well have been lifetimes. He snapped his attention back to his husband—leaned on the small circular table and reached across to try and hold the trembling hand on the laminate.

“Hey.  _ Hey _ ,” Link implored, searching for those green eyes. But they were distant and wide, locked on the napkin dispenser separating their settings, his large shoulders visibly rigid. Link swallowed and rubbed a thumb along his knuckles to try and ease him back down from shock. 

“Mick? I love you. Everything’s okay.”

At the sound of his name, Mick’s sights flicked up to rest on Link’s. It was a step in the right direction, anyway.

“We’re gonna get our food, we’re gonna walk out of here, and we’re gonna go home. We’re not staying. Okay?” Careful to keep his voice even, Link offered a smirk in the hopes it would return some normalcy to their day. “The only reason I ordered something was ‘cause I would’ve felt bad if I hadn’t. I wanted to get you out of the heat and the crowds, just for a minute. I’m gonna hold your hand the entire way to the car, and—”

_ “No.”  _ Something reawakened, courtesy of Link’s plan, and Mick drew a reaching inhale that trembled. “I’m fine. We’re not going home.”

“You’re  _ not  _ fine _ ,”  _ huffed Link. “You’re locked up tighter than a prison. I’m taking you home the second our food’s out.”

“I can handle this.”

“It’s not about what you can ‘handle’, love. It’s about making sure you feel secure, which I  _ know  _ you well enough that I can tell when you don’t. There are too many people. It’s too much noise.”

“ _ You _ wanted to come here,” Mick pointed out in a graveled grumble, and it took Link a moment longer than it should have to recognize that his husband’s tone was one of guilt, not bitterness. “You wanted to come to the zoo. We’re not leaving because of me.”

“You’re not having a good time, Rhett.” Gently squeezing his hand, Link gave him another smile. When Mick pursed his lips and started to let his gaze roam about the packed, animal-themed diner, Link squeezed again and bumped their hands on the Formica to anchor his attention. “Focus on me.  _ Listen _ .”

“I’m  _ listenin’ _ ,” Mick bit back, and Link reminded himself it was the mental illness bearing its teeth, not his lover.

“I don’t care if I wanted to come here. We’re here now, and I didn’t realize it would be this busy—” Silly, in retrospect, to visit a zoo in June and  _ not  _ anticipate the boardwalks being stuffed with screaming kids and chatty tourists—“and now I’m saying I want to leave. I feel bad for even suggesting it in the first place, grizz.”   


“We’re—I’m—” Mick started and restarted before screwing his eyes shut and pulling his grip from Link’s, hunching over to bury his face in his shoulder and falling silent.

Link wasn’t helping, then. After two years, he should know how to comfort Mick in times like these, but nothing was so black and white, it seemed. Not when Mick still had trouble accepting his setbacks. Always believing he should be invulnerable… 

Words weren’t going to improve the situation. Link withdrew his hands from the space between them and sat straight, thanking the waitress when she dropped off their waters. He didn’t miss her alarmed glimpse at Mick. 

“Food’ll be right out, boys.”

She took her leave once more—but they  _ weren’t  _ really alone in a place so bustling, and Mick exemplified this when he began rocking back and forth in his chair, chewing on the inside of his lip.

They needed to leave. Or at least for now, Link needed a non-intrusive way to pull Mick from his spiral. Whipping out his cellphone, he opened his text log and typed, fingers flying.

_ Hey. Can we talk like this? _

Send.

Mick’s rocking ceased. He pulled his fingers down along his face and glanced up at Link, to the phone in his husband’s hands. Shaking, he reached into his jeans pocket and retrieved his own, wiping the screen on his pink button-up before checking it. His expression didn’t ease at the message, but he responded in kind.

_ Yeah. I’m sorry. _

_ Don’t be,  _ Link wrote.  _ I’m not sorry. I had a good time with you today. _

_ For all of what, thirty minutes? _

_ And we saw lots of cool animals in that time, didn’t we? Which was your favorite? _

Mick rubbed his neck with his free hand, frowning at the text like Link was humoring him—so Link continued.

_ I liked the penguins. I love the little noises they make. _

When Mick’s lips tugged up in a relenting smirk, Link’s heart fluttered, and he felt the air over their table lighten. Mick typed slow in comparison, but it was something to distract him from the uproar around.

_ You would. You sap. _

_ Guilty. You still haven’t told me what your favorite was, though. _

Link knew he was staring at Mick throughout the exchange, but when Mick looked up at him with that familiar cherish creasing his eyes, it took Link’s breath away. Silly, maybe, that after all this time he was still so ridiculously smitten. But in his defense, there was never a time Mick’s smile wasn’t dazzling. Couldn’t anyone say the same of the love of their life?

_ I don’t know, I thought the polar bears were pretty cute. Especially the cub. _

Link’s cheeks warmed, and Mick leaned an elbow on the table to hide his tickled smirk.

_ Who’s the sap, again?  _ Link sent. 

Mick scanned the text, shut his phone off, and zoned out pointedly at the floor beside their table. His sudden shift was disheartening, but seconds later the waitress returned with their mystery appetizer in a styrofoam container.  _ That’s why he’s being cold—I convinced him. Now he’s willing to leave. _

“Here ya go! Sorry for the wait,” the waitress sang, addressing Link but side-eyeing Mick. “I can take your payment now, if you’re in a hurry.”

“Please.” Link fetched his wallet, handing her a twenty and standing with their food. “Keep the change.”

“Thank you very much. I hope you have a good rest of your day.” With that, the waitress pardoned herself, and Link turned to Mick and pushed the to-go box towards him. 

“Can you be in charge of this, love?”

Mick nodded, accepting it with one hand and lacing his free fingers through Link’s. 

The walk back to the car was silent on the couple’s part. While the bright zoo roiled around them with noise and color, Link guided Mick with a gentle hold, pulling him through the throngs of visitors and glancing over his shoulder every minute or so to ensure Mick was alright. A few times he found Mick following with his eyes closed, trusting Link blindly. That was one way to feel indispensable, Link reckoned.

“Wait.”

The command came as a surprise near the front gate, where the crowds were among their thickest and the heat of the day beat down on their necks full-force. Link stopped and chanced a look back at Mick. Thinly-veiled panic kept his husband’s lips tight together, and Link gave his arm a needy tug.

“Can  _ this _ wait, whatever it is? We’re almost to the parking lot.”

“I need to use the restroom,” Mick asserted, cocking his head toward the visitor center. “In and out, real quick. I’ll be fine.”

Link held Mick’s gaze for a moment before letting go of his hand and taking the leftovers, checking the nearest park clock. This was obviously something Mick was going to do with or without “permission”—something he felt he  _ needed  _ to do, to prove himself. One of many instances of self-inflicted behavioral therapy, staying out of his comfort zone for just a  _ minute  _ longer, even on the verge of breaking.

It was scary. But Mick always came out fine.

“If you aren’t back in five minutes, I’m coming to find you,” Link warned.

Mick rolled his eyes and broke off, ducking into the visitor center and leaving Link to lean against an alcove where he could watch visitors pass by.

Sometimes he wondered if Mick really internalized it when Link told him that he wasn’t a burden or an inconvenience. He’d been through so much therapy already, and times like today were growing fewer and further between. If anything, Link was  _ proud. _ Diagnoses had been tossed around and tried on like clothes—most of them relating to sensory processing—yet nothing had stuck definitively. Despite that, steady progress was being made.

Mick had lasted much longer today than he once would have. In the past, they wouldn’t even have parked—just kept driving and turned around and headed home upon seeing the parade of people. But Mick had been insistent (“I can handle it, Neal.”) and Link had made doubly sure Mick wasn’t pushing himself too hard (“We can leave whenever you want.”). 

Go figure he’d pushed himself too hard, trying to be strong. If Mick was improving so much, why wasn’t Link improving, too?

“Hey.”

Link opened his eyes to Mick towering over him, trying not to smile. “You ready? Or you wanna stand here sleepwalking all day like a weirdo?”

“I was waiting on you, jerk,” Link teased, looping his arm through Mick’s and leading the way to the car.

Another small victory.

The walk to the lot was paired with a growing silence as they distanced themselves from the laughter of children and occasional elephant trumpet. Link shielded his eyes from the bright sun to roam over the various vehicles, thankfully finding theirs quick and bee-lining to it.

“I call shotgun,” Mick intoned. His mood directly correlated with the amount of people around him, and Link smiled at the welcome change. It was rewarding, to help him back to normal.

“You always make that joke, but I think the funnier part is imagining you sitting in the back seat and me chauffeuring you around everywhere.”

“Then I wouldn’t get to sit next to you.” 

“Oh, what a travesty. You’d be an extra  _ two feet away _ for the drive home.”

“I guess so long as I’m within nagging distance…”

The pair ducked into the car, Link wasting no time getting the engine and air conditioner running while Mick settled the take-out box into the floorboard. “You ready?” Link asked, hand on the gear and already twisting to back their car out of its space.

“Actually—” Mick’s touch stilled Link’s, and the brunet stopped and stared expectantly, letting his hand fall from the gear shift.

“What?”

“Can we just… sit, for a second?” Mick implored, staring down to where their skin met. “I want to do something while we’re still here. While we’re still celebrating… if you can even still call it that.”

Link relaxed into his seat, losing his sense of urgency and gaining a grin. “Of course it’s still a celebration, love. Better keep whatever you’re gonna do PG, though—or at least wait until we get home. Lots of kids around.”

“Right.” Mick smirked. When he dragged his gaze up to meet Link’s, his eyes brimmed and twinkled in that way that made Link’s heart flutter and cheeks tingle. Truly, there was  _ never  _ a time Mick’s smile wasn’t dazzling.

“I didn’t go to the bathroom,” Mick said, and Link furrowed his brow in concern.

“Get too nervous? We can hit a gas station or rest stop on the way—”

“No. I didn’t  _ need  _ to use the bathroom. It was a lie.” Mick dug in his pocket and retrieved something with a  _ poof _ . Small and soft, white and black with flashes of orange and yellow as he turned it over in his hand. When it leveled out and regained its shape, he passed the delicate item to Link in an outstretched palm, and Link gaped at it with a slack jaw. “Surprise.”

“You bought me a stuffed penguin,” Link marveled through a smile, taking it and giving it a gentle squeeze with both thumbs. The material was silky to the touch, reacted to the grain of Link’s fingers by puffing out just so and darkening in hue. “Oh my gosh.”

“Were the penguins really your favorite?” Mick asked with a self-doubting chuckle, and Link beamed.

“Does it matter?  _ Now  _ they are! Thank you, Rhett.”

“That’s not all,” Mick announced, and when Link was able to tear his focus from the plush in his hands, he found his husband rubbing his neck, cheeks pink with blush.

“What?”

“I… I wanted to do this inside the park—maybe in front of the polar bear exhibit, or somewhere else memorable. But I messed that up, so I guess the parking lot will have to do. After all, there are plenty of kids around. Right?” A second time, Mick dug through his pocket, and a gentle crinkling preluded the retrieval of a folded piece of paper. “Sorry it’s wrinkled,” he murmured, passing it to Link quietly.

“What is this?” Link wondered, glancing at Mick as he set the penguin in his lap and unfolded it. 

“You know how—” Mick stopped, picking at his nails and placing a gentle hand on the back of Link’s neck. “The other day, you mentioned… in the kitchen? Last month? That paper you brought home...?” His tone was wrung distractingly tight, dripping free of something that had been eating at his nerves all day. An added stress, on top of a huge crowd of strangers? Link shoved the guilt away; Mick was trying to make him happy right now. He needed to be present for this.

Rather than flounder in guessing its contents, Link smoothed out the sheet. Nothing amazing, at a glance. A printed email? He read:

_ from: SunsideBeginnings _ _   
_ _ to: rhettreadsthings _

_ Mr. and Mr. McLaughlin, _

_ Thank you for reaching out and putting your trust in our agency. _

_ After careful evaluation of your submission, we would be glad to meet with you and talk more about expanding your family. The process of adopting a child is one of the most important life decisions _

“Oh my gosh,” Link breathed, stopping to press his hand to his mouth as his eyes burned wet.

“We don’t have to go,” Mick blurted, contact on Link’s neck stiffening, “I just thought that if you’re serious about wanting a family with me, that we could at least start looking into it—but you can say no. I mean,  _ I’m  _ ready to try—I know that might be hard to believe with how today went, but I think I could be a good father if I work even harder, and I  _ know  _ you would be a good father. I love you, Link, and I’ll understand if you don’t think I’m the right—”

Link reached blindly, interrupting the ramble by pulling Mick into a crushing hug and weeping into the skin of his neck. Just as fervent, Mick’s hands wrapped easily over Link’s shoulders and pulled him in close, a hand fettering up into Link’s hair and cradling his head against him.

“You okay...?” Mick requested timidly. “These are  _ happy _ tears, right, snowflake?”

_ “Mmhm,”  _ Link nodded hard, kissing Mick’s tear-soaked pulse point. “Are you kidding me...? You’re going to be a great dad, Rhett!  _ Already _ , you—you try to be your best, more than anyone I’ve ever met. It shows. I know, and Josh and Chase know, and this adoption agency clearly knows and they haven’t even  _ met  _ you, and—” Link stifled a choking sob, morphing it into an ecstatic giggle as Mick’s embrace on him tightened. “Our  _ child  _ is going to know, Rhett. And they’ll love you as much as I do.”

When Mick pulled away, Link worried he’d said the wrong thing. Instead, Mick pressed into him with a searching kiss: enthusiastic and terrified, ready and unprepared, generous and greedy. Link melted into the warmth and  _ home  _ of it, feeling the thin paper between his fingers and not minding a bit the hot tears on his cheeks. What gift could possibly stand up to the declaration that Mick still wanted him so ardently? That he still wanted a future, a life, a home,  _ more— _ all with the research partner he’d fallen for?

Link broke their kiss only to speak: “You really have no idea, Rhett, but I’ll always be here to try and show you how good you are. You deserve to see it as clearly as your family will.”

Relieved silence quivered Mick as he pet Link’s hair, pressed his nose there and planted a chaste kiss just as his voice broke. “Hush, baby. It’s your birthday, not mine.”


End file.
